


we're laughing like it didn't hurt

by aliceinacoma



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Toni and Betty friendship, friendship fluff if that's a thing, godammit these two are gonna pass the bechdel test
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinacoma/pseuds/aliceinacoma
Summary: The sixth worst thing about Betty Cooper is that her kindness isn’t a front for anything.-In which Toni Topaz doesn't mean to become friends with Betty Cooper, until she does. Some season 2, slightly au, gal pal friendship.





	we're laughing like it didn't hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Mallrat's "Groceries."

Growing up a Serpent legacy is different than initiating into the gang later in life. In some ways, the other Serpents weren’t as tough on her because of her grandfather. They never roughed her up the way they do other recruits. But there’s this expectation that follows her around that seems placed exclusively on her. Like she’s meant to clean up other member’s messes, even if she had no hand in them.

 

Not that she minds, really. The Serpents have always been there for her: when her mom died, they comforted her; when her cousin tried to get her hooked on drugs, they ran that asshole out of town; and when she needed a job to help out her grandfather with bills, they got her a gig at the Whyte Wurm.

 

They take care of her, and in return, she becomes the most loyal among them. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do to keep the gang together.

 

Sweetpea teases her about it, calls her the heart of the Serpents, and she gives him a black eye for it.

 

—

 

Jughead creeps up on her. The first time she sees him skulking down the hallway, she turns to Fangs and mutters, “Watch out for the Uni-bomber.” She knows it’s FP’s kid, which makes him someone she ought to look out for, but there’s something about him, with the bags under his eyes and that stupid hat and the notebook he’s always scribbling away in, that makes her want to call him on his bullshit.

 

But then, it turns out, Jughead is smart. Not street smart - he has laughably little street savvy - but smart in that way that she knows will get him places. When he speaks, it transforms the world around him. When he writes, it’s even better.

 

It intrigues her in ways none of the other dumbasses at her school ever have.

 

For the first time, Toni sees the possibility of a way out. Not just for herself, but for all of them. Out of this hellhole of a city, out of poverty. Jughead would let her be herself, understand her even, and still guide her toward whatever the fuck is out there. Whatever those Northside phonies move on to.

 

Then she sees him, in the middle of the parking lot, arms wrapped firmly around the waist of some blonde, preppy Northside princess, and all she can think is, _Of course._

 

—

 

Betty bakes great muffins because, dear god, of course she does, and Toni would like to hit her for being such a god-awful stereotype.

 

“Would you like one, Toni?” she asks, as they sprawl out on the floor of Jughead’s trailer. He’s got one hand tangled into her stupid blonde ponytail, and looking at them makes Toni’s skin crawl.

 

She feels petty enough to decline, or to take a bite of one and not finish it, but she’s not too keen on playing the mean girl in this rom-com, so she nods and takes a muffin anyway and goddammit they’re good.

 

Betty smiles at her, friendly, and Toni buries her head back in her text book.

 

The sixth worst thing about Betty Cooper is that her kindness isn’t a front for anything.

 

—

 

They never talk about their hook-up again.

 

Mostly because, well, as far as Toni’s concerned, there’s not much to talk about. It was an itch she desperately wanted to scratch, but as Jughead pulled her in and cupped her breast over her shirt, she realized that itch may have had more to do with wanting an intellectual equal than with any romantic notions she had about the Serpent prince.

 

It all ends abruptly when he breathes out a shaky, “Betty,” against her ear, and she entangles herself from him as gracefully as she can.

 

She’s not here to be a stand-in.

 

What’s really annoying is that she learns more about Ponytail than she expected when she kisses Jughead. Not because he says anything - he doesn’t breathe a word about her that night or the next day at Pop’s - but the way Jughead presses his lips to hers, the irritatingly tender heat of his hands tracing circles on her hips. He’s needy in the way he presses against her, like he’s used to someone guiding him, taking care of him. Like he wants her to be in charge.

 

And that, well, that definitely doesn’t fall anywhere in the spectrum of her understanding about Betty Cooper.

 

—

 

Jughead slumps down in a seat across from her at the bar, and it takes Toni about twelve seconds to calculate the amount of miserable on his face.

 

“Where’s Betty?” she asks cautiously. The party around them has devolved into something she’s sure Blondie wasn’t anticipating.

 

Jughead doesn’t look at her as he answers, his jaw tight. “She went home.”

 

Toni frowns at him, though she can’t quite bring herself to roll her eyes the way she wants to. “Jones,” she says. “You didn’t.”

 

It’s not like she cares. She really doesn’t. If anything, Jughead and Betty are a thorn in her - and the Serpents - side. Ponytail functions pretty much solely as a distraction for him. And statistically speaking, there’s no way they’d be able to make a life together work, either, in the long term. They come from two wildly different worlds.

 

Still. There’s something about Jughead’s grimace as he glares over at her that makes her want to take his hand and fix this mess for him. She wants to drag him up to the Northside and force him to make nice and ask the girl to go steady. If none of the rest of them will ever get even close to a taste of that kind of middle-class normality, at least he should.

 

Besides, as annoying as Jughead and Betty are when they’re sucking face in the middle of the Southside High parking lot, Jughead sans Betty is one thousand times worse.

 

“Here,” she says, pushing a beer in front of him. It’s the only form of comfort that seems appropriate. “It’ll be okay, Jughead.”

 

His eyes as he looks at her say it won’t, and Toni wonders what it feels like to love someone that way, like walking away from them takes the whole spine out of you.

 

—

 

Despite the initial harassment - and Jughead’s ridiculous angst over losing a school he barely attended - Riverdale High actually turns out to be a welcome change of pace. Teachers who actually care, new facilities, actual extracurriculars. It’s the kind of school Toni’s always secretly been longing for, even if she has to navigate the likes of Cheryl Blossom on a daily basis.

 

Not that Cheryl allows herself to be navigated.

 

“What’s your damage, Paramore?” the red-head demands as they nearly run into each other in the hall one afternoon. Toni rolls her eyes but refuses to move out of the way. The likes of Cheryl Blossom couldn’t be found in the halls of Southside High. Power there had be cultivated through sex or sheer physical force. But Cheryl, somewhat admirably, seems to control the halls of Riverdale High simply by demanding it.

 

She’s also heard the rumors and then the full story from Jughead - who, she considers as he describes the way he, Betty, Archie and Veronica (but mostly he and Betty) searched for the truth about Jason Blossom’s murder, probably has a death wish - and frankly she feels bad for Cheryl, for the way she seems to need to lash out just to keep her head above water.

 

Toni’s not entirely sure how she’s meant to act around a person like that, so she settles with holding her ground.

 

“You’re the one in the way, Cheryl,” she counters, and the red head looks up from her phone in surprise.

 

“Ah, I see Jughead’s new little harlot has a mouth on her,” she snaps. Toni does her best to look non-plussed. If she thought the Serpents were misogynistic…

 

“A little antiquated, don’t you think, Cheryl?” she says, brushing past her. Turning back, she offers a knowing smirk. “I mean, Jughead? Really? I’m way more into girls.”

 

As she saunters off down the hall, she doesn’t miss the way Cheryl’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen in surprise.

 

 _Ah_ , Toni thinks. _Of course._

 

-

 

There’s about a week and a half reprieve from everything spinning out of control. That’s January for you, she supposes. The universe falls into a slumber and momentarily forgets it’s trying to mess with their heads.

 

On the first day, she sits with the Serpents in the cafeteria and laughs about some dumb meme Fangs insists on showing them. They don’t talk about drugs, Penny, or Southside High. Jughead even smiles once, even if he does keep glancing over at Betty’s trademark ponytail three tables away.

 

On the second day, she treats herself to a strawberry milkshake at Pop’s. Curled into a back corner booth, legs pulled up underneath her, she sips on her milkshake and delves into the last few chapters of _The Hate U Give._ She threatens Sweetpea and Fangs with violence when they try to crowd into her booth, and she’s left blissfully alone for the rest of the evening.

 

On the third day, they get assigned partners for a project in English, and, as Toni hears her name called, she’s sure the universe is back on its bullshit.

 

“Toni Topaz and Betty Cooper,” Ms. Drew announces. Toni barely contains the groan that builds in her throat and offers a little salute to Betty, who glances back at her over her shoulder. Toni doesn’t miss the way Blondie’s eyes slide over to Jughead in the seat next to her or the way Jughead stops fidgeting with his pen when they do.

 

After class, Betty stops by her desk, books clasped to her chest to discuss when they should meet to brainstorm ideas.

 

“I’m free after school,” Toni offers.

 

“Cool. My place?”

 

Toni hesitates. She’s heard stories about Betty’s mom, largely from Jughead but also older stories, about when Alice Cooper was Alice Smith and wore her Serpent’s jacket with pride, and she’s not sure how Mrs. Cooper will feel about having another Serpent in her home. She certainly didn’t like her daughter dating one.

 

And yet, it’s not like Toni has much of an alternative to offer. She’s still moving from couch to couch, so she nods.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

Betty offers her a small smile, glancing over at Jughead, who’s been packing up his bag suspiciously slowly during the course of their conversation, before departing gracefully. As soon as she’s gone, Toni turns to Jughead and smacks him on the back of the head.

 

“Ow!” he yelps. “Toni, what the fuck?”

 

“You’re a moron,” she tells him curtly, hoisting her own bag over her shoulder. “Get your shit together, Jones,” she adds as she heads toward the exit. 

 

She doesn’t like Betty Cooper, not really, but she doesn’t like being in the middle of all this pining either.

 

—

 

Each pair has been assigned a Shakespearean play to do a presentation on, and the presentation is about a third of their grade. If you ask Toni, that’s a bit excessive for a dude whose been dead for 400 years, and when she voices this opinion, Betty doesn’t supress her smile.

 

“Be glad you weren’t here last year,” she says. “Ms. Drew made the whole school participate in an all-day Shakespeare festival. We all had to act in at least one scene.”

 

Toni grins. “Wow, I’m sure Jones loved that.”

 

Betty rolls her eyes, good-natured. “If I remember correctly, he was mysteriously ill that day.”

 

“Of course he was. What about you? Who’d you get stuck playing?”

 

“Hero. From _Much Ado About Nothing_ ,” Betty says. 

 

“Obviously. You’re the perfect fit, with those big eyes and good girl aesthetic.”

 

She doesn’t mean it as an insult - well, not completely anyway - but Betty’s eyes settle into something hard she’s never seen before. She doesn’t address Toni’s comment, just opens up _Cymbelline_ and starts breaking up work for the project.

 

They don’t joke again that afternoon.

 

—

 

On Friday night, Reggie’s parents cruise out of town, and he predictably throws a rager. She knows the Serpents aren’t explicitly invited, but Sweetpea and Fangs are itching to find out what a Northside party is like. She tags along mostly to keep them out of trouble. Jughead, to no one's surprise, flat out refuses to go.

 

“I don’t do parties,” he grumbles when she finds him in the Blue and Gold office that afternoon.

 

“Or pep rallies or social gatherings of any kind, I know,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. Sometimes she wonders how he has any friends. “If you change your mind, though, you know where to find me.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

Which she expected, but skulking in the corner watching the football team challenge each other to keg stands, she wishes he were there to make fun of the crowd with her. The party is like something out of a teen rom-com, the kind of high school party she never imagined occurred in reality. It’d be fun to laugh at, if she had anyone to laugh with.

 

She’s just about the cut out and leave Fangs and Sweetpea to their own devices, when she sees a flash of a blonde ponytail stumble toward the bathroom. Toni frowns. She’s never seen Betty Cooper so much as trip. If she’s stumbling, that must mean…

 

Suddenly, Betty’s banging on the bathroom door, calling in to its occupant to hurry the fuck up.

 

Toni almost laughs at the sight. She’s never seen Cooper demand anything, especially not slurring her words and holding herself up on the side of the wall. Whoever is in the bathroom yells back at her, and she kicks the door once before sinking down to the floor, back against the wall.

 

Well that’s no good, Toni thinks, navigating her way through sweaty teenage bodies to halt right in front of Betty.

 

Blondie looks up at her, and a small smile spreads across her face. “Toni Topaaaaz,” she says, drawing out the name in a silly voice.

 

“Betty Cooper,” Toni responds. “What’s going on here?”

 

Betty rolls her eyes. “I wanna use the bathroom but some ASSHOLE is TAKING HIS TIME.” She bangs one fist against the door.

 

“Why don’t I walk you home, and you can use the bathroom there, huh?” she asks, offering her hand. Betty swipes at it.

 

“No, I wanna stay!” she chirps. “I’m having… what’s that word? Oh, fun.”

 

Toni laughs. “Yeah, no I definitely think it’s time to go home. Doctor’s orders.” She grabs Betty’s hand, hauling her onto her feet and steadying her by her forearms when the blonde girl sways. At least she doesn’t argue as Toni leads her toward the front door.

 

They’re about half-way down the block when Betty halts, suddenly alert, and rushes over to the street to vomit. Her hair is pulled back in her usual ponytail, so instead of holding her hair, Toni reaches out a tentative hand to rub her back.

 

“Girl, how many did you have?” she asks gently.

 

“Like…four beers,” Betty says, holding up three fingers. Toni chuckles.

 

“You’re a lightweight, Cooper,” she says. When Betty shows no signs of moving, Toni settles down on the curb next to her, careful to keep her distance in case she throws up again.

 

But Betty seems to have gotten most of it out of her system, looking up to study the sky with a wistful look.

 

“Archie and I used to take his dad’s truck and lie out in the back to look at the stars,” she says finally. “At first I thought it was like our special thing, but then he started inviting Jughead and I was so upset cause you know, I used to have this huge crush on Archie. Did you know that?” She giggles, as if the idea were absurd. “I mean, what was I thinking? Archie? When…?”

 

She doesn’t finish the question, but Toni can fill in the blanks.

 

“You okay, Betty?” she asks softly when Betty doesn’t continue. Betty shakes her head, a small, sad smile on her lips.

 

“I’m fine,” she says. “I don’t usually drink.”

 

“I can tell,” Toni teases. Then, with a deep breath, she adds, “I’m sorry. That I called you a good girl the other day. You don’t…you don’t like that, huh?”

 

Betty’s face twists up in a grimace as she shakes her head. “I know what it seems like,” she admits. “What my mom wants me to be, but…”

 

“But all those boxes are stupid,” Toni offers, and Betty smiles at her.

 

“I don’t feel very good, most of the time,” she admits softly, tracing absent-minded circles over her palm. When Toni glances down, she sees them for the first time: little half moon scars in the center of Betty’s hands.

 

“Yeah,” Toni offers in response. What else do you possibly say to a drunk girl who’s just revealed a dark truth to you, one that, no matter your own struggles, you will never really understand? “Let me walk you home?”

 

Betty nods, accepting the hand that Toni offers her to help her up. She lingers for a few moments at the curb, studying Toni’s face.

 

“Thanks,” she says finally, and Toni’s not sure whether she means the walk or something else.

 

—

 

Despite her better judgement, she shows up at the Cooper’s the next day with a burger and fries from Pop’s. She’s glad, as she carts the food out of Pop’s, that none of the Serpents are around to see her do something so embarrassing as buy food for the Northside princess, but she can’t help herself. Some maternal instinct has flipped on in her heart; she genuinely wants to make sure she’s okay.

 

Alice answers the door with a sneer, but Toni fends off her questioning with an excuse about working on a school project - and, well, it’s not totally a lie. Their project  _is_ due next week. Alice shoos her upstairs, and Toni knocks softly on Betty’s door.

 

“Come in.”

 

Blondie’s still in bed upon Toni’s entrance, some trashy TV playing from the laptop settle on her lap. She sits up immediately when she realizes who’s at the door.

 

“Toni,” she says. “Oh, uh, sorry, were we supposed to work on the project this morning?”

 

Toni grins. “Nah,” she says. “Though that is what I told your mom. I brought you provisions.” She tosses the Pop’s bag in Betty’s direction.

 

“You really didn’t have to,” the blonde girl insists.

 

“Well, duh, Cooper,” Toni responds, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

A moment of genuine camaraderie passes between the two girls as Betty pulls out the burger to dig right in. She moans in appreciation.

 

“Note to self: Pop’s is even better after you’ve made a total fool of yourself,” she jokes. Then, turning to Toni, she says, “Thanks for getting me home, by the way. I can’t believe how I was behaving last night.”

 

“We all have our moments.” Toni shrugs. They smile at one another, and then there’s a brief, awkward pause, neither one sure what’s supposed to come next in this experiment of a social interaction. Toni clears her throat, standing up fully.

 

“Well, uh, I guess I should go,” she says.

 

“Sure,” Betty responds. “Unless,” she adds quickly, “maybe you’d wanna hang out?”

 

And that’s how she ends up painting her nails in Betty Cooper’s room on a Saturday morning.

 

—

 

“You did _what_?” Sweetpea asks incredulously at lunch on Monday. Toni rolls her eyes. This is exactly why she hadn’t wanted to tell him where she’d disappeared to on Saturday.

 

“Betty and I hung out,” she says casually, popping a tater tot into her mouth.

 

Sweetpea glowers at her. “First Jones and now you? What is it about this Northside bitch, huh? She got magical pussy or something?”

 

Jughead nearly rips off his head for the remark, grabbing him by the collar threateningly. “Don’t talk about Betty that way,” he snarls, shoving Sweetpea away from him. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Don’t talk about any girl that way. It’s gross.”

 

Toni smiles at him, a little amused. “Jughead Jones, feminist icon,” she teases. Jughead rolls his eyes, digging back into his food, but as they’re exiting out of the cafeteria, he clears his throat.

 

“So, what, are you and Betty like friends now?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Toni shrugs.

 

“We’re…friendly,” she says evasively. It’s the best answer she has, considering. She really did have fun with Cooper on Saturday, but friendship isn’t exactly something Toni offers up easily. Outside of the Serpents, Toni’s not sure she trusts anyone enough to consider them a friend.

 

Still, she’s never really had a gal pal, per se, one she could talk about non-Serpent things with, one who would laugh at terrible rom-coms with her, knowing they both secretly enjoyed them.

 

It’d be nice, to have a friend like that, she thinks. Even if it is Betty Cooper.

 

“Cool,” Jughead says, though his tone is anything but. His voice is half an octave higher than it usually is as he asks, “Does she… I mean, has she ever…?”

 

“Does she ever talk about you?” Toni supplies, smirking as he turns bright red around the ear. Regarding him for a moment, she considers her answer.

 

“Nope,” she says finally, and even though it’s not entirely true - he has come up, casually, in their conversations - they’ve yet to outwardly broach the ‘Jughead-dumped-me-but-I’m-still-in-love-with-him’ topic.

 

Besides, she thinks he deserves a little disappointment in this arena.

 

“Contrary to popular belief, Jones,” she says lightly. “Blondie’s inner life doesn’t totally revolve around you.”

 

She saunters away before Jughead can muster a good response.

 

—

 

“You know your mom used to be like queen of the Serpents?” Toni says incredulously. It’s Wednesday night, and their project is due tomorrow, so she and Betty have piled onto her bed to put the finishing touches on their presentation. “I mean, not the actual queen but, like, girl, you should hear the stories.”

 

Betty nods, her eyes wide as she glues a piece of paper onto their poster. “I can’t even believe it,” she says. “It’s like the total opposite of how I’ve always known her. My mom’s always been so strict and proper and it’s just crazy to know she had this completely wild other life before she married my dad.” She turns contemplative as she re-caps the glue stick. “Almost like she had to destroy that part of her to become who she is now.”

 

Toni nods, thoughtful. “Which side do you think is really her?” she asks.

 

“I don’t even know anymore,” Betty admits. “But it feels like maybe my mom’s been really unhappy for a while now.”

 

They fall silent for a few moments, and Betty lies down to stare up at the ceiling. Toni pops a piece of gum into her mouth, offering a stick to Betty, which she gratefully accepts.

 

Finally, Betty asks, “Do you think we all either become our parents or do our best to become the complete opposite of them? Like my mom left the Southside to become this perfect Northside housewife, and I…”

 

“Tried to join the Serpents?” Toni finishes for her.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I mean my mom is dead, so I guess I’m doing a pretty good job of being the opposite of her.”

 

There’s a tense beat, and then Betty lets out an unladylike snort. The two girls giggle so loudly that Alice Cooper bursts into the room to ask what’s wrong.

 

—

 

Her camera is missing.

 

 _Her camera is missing_ , and she’s about to have a panic attack.

 

She’d set the thing down for two minutes, and when she turned back to grab it, it was gone. How could she be so stupid? The one valuable thing she owns - not just in terms of money but in terms of sentimental currency - and she was careless enough to get it stolen.

 

Jughead promises he’ll find whoever took it, even employs his good old pal Archie Andrews in sussing out if any of the football players would have enough guts to commit an act of thievery. But in the end, it’s Betty Cooper’s natural detective skills that save the day. During lunch, she slides into the seat next to Toni gracefully.

 

Jughead nearly spills his drink all over the table. “Betty, hey,” he sputters. Toni throws a fry at his head, but Betty just offers him a soul-stealing smile before turning to the girl on her right.

 

“Meet me after school? Outside the boys’ locker room?” she murmurs. “I’ve got an idea about getting your camera back. And exacting some revenge.”

 

It turns out her plan involves breaking into Reggie Mantle’s locker to steal his clothes and the keys to his precious car. As Betty expertly undoes his lock, Toni raises an eyebrow at her.

 

“It’s not that hard to break into Weatherbee’s file cabinet,” she admits easily, and Toni laughs in delighted surprise.

 

She laughs harder when Reggie finds them in the parking lot, revving the engine to his car. Only when Betty threatens to total it does he relent and hand over Toni’s camera, begging them to leave his baby alone.

 

Afterward, when Toni asks how she knew he had taken it, Betty rolls her eyes. “Please. Reggie Mantle is a total moron. I heard him bragging about it in the _library_ , for godsake.”

 

Toni snaps a photo of her triumphant smile.

 

—

 

With the Pickens debacle gets into full swing, she knows the brief respite she had from Serpent-Riverdale-Hiram-Lodge craziness is over, and it leaves her feeling more bitter than she expected. For a shining near-two weeks, she’d thought, maybe, being at Riverdale High would make everything easier.

 

But Riverdale is still Riverdale, and there’s no way around it.

 

Jughead’s on edge more than any of them, especially after Penny makes her reappearance. The rest of the Serpents avoid him, but Toni’s nothing if not a sucker for the miserable and misbegotten, so she still slides into the seat across from him at lunch.

 

“Betty thinks we can find the statue,” he confesses, and Toni smiles around the straw of her soda at the word ‘we.’

 

“With Cooper and Jones on the case, I have no doubts,” she says confidently. “And while you’re at it, maybe you can also solve the case of your missing relationship.”

 

Jughead blushes, but he doesn’t pretend to hide his smile.

 

—

 

At one in the morning, as Toni crosses the trailer park to bang on the Jones’ trailer door and demand Jughead help her assuage her insomnia with a few rounds of Call of Duty, she’s surprised to find Betty Cooper, dressed to the nines, descending the stairs.

 

“Fancy meeting you here, Cooper,” she says in greeting. Betty glances up in alarm, and then Toni sees it: the kissed-off lipstick, the mussed hair, the hickey forming under her jaw.

 

She smirks. “Well, well, well. Looks like somebody got laid,” she teases. Betty’s blush fills her whole face.

 

“I plead the fifth,” she says.

 

Toni chuckles. “Thank god, honestly,” she admits. “I couldn’t take any more of Jones’ pining.”

 

Betty nods, mock-serious. “He’s so irritating when he pines.”

 

They grin at each other briefly, then Betty gestures toward the road. “Well,” she says. “I better get home before my mom sends out a search party.”

 

“And I’m gonna go mercilessly tease Jughead,” she offers, passing by the blonde. At the foot of the stars, she turns back, calling out, “Hey Cooper?”

 

Betty looks over at her expectantly.

 

“I’m glad,” Toni offers.

 

“Me too,” Betty responds, and their shared smiles assure her they’re talking about something much bigger than a certain brooding, beanie-clad boy.

**Author's Note:**

> The thing this show handles the WORST (which is saying a lot, Riverdale is a terribly executed show and I love it) is friendship. I'd even wager that the female friendships are a little better than the male friendships. Like...Archie and Jughead are supposed to be friends but, like, are they really? 
> 
> So yeah. Toni and Betty are gonna be friends, if I have anything to say about it.


End file.
